Indian Summer
by L. Fox1
Summary: Craig takes his hardships in stride, but Sean seeks to make things right for him. Thus, things finally start going Craig's way...


[ Author's notes: I hold no claims to any of these characters, etc. I'm not even from Canada. :) I just dig Degrassi. Also, I'm sort of fuzzy on some key issues in the plot, so if something sounds a little incongruous, I beg forgiveness. ]  
  
[ Why this is rated PG13: A little mild language, some not-so-mild sexual innuendo, and some mature themes. You've been warned, fellas, this is slash. ]  
**  
  
  
****Indian Summer**  
Chapter One: Butterscotch Dreams  
  
Craig Manning giggles faintly, his bruised ribs aching dully with every breath. Today the pain is almost pleasant; a faded photo, a comparison of then and now. Now he lays on his back on his bed, his arms behind his head, shoulder-to-shoulder with his best friend. Now the late Saturday sun is warm on his face, sinking below the horizon of his window. Now he feels healthier and happier than he has in years; he fears nothing. Right here, right now, is just about paradise.  
  
He sighs blissfully. I wish this minute could last forever.  
  
Sean snorts beside him and chuckles. You big queer.  
  
Not as queer as you, Craig elbows him in the side, and they crack into fresh conniptions. Sean grabs him round the waist and they tussle and shout and bang into the wall. Sean wrestles him into a bear hug, which softens into an embrace as they grin. Craig balances over his friend, and when their laughter subsides, a pair of identical smiles condense into unreserved kisses.  
  
A knock at Craig's closed bedroom door and they spring apart, each discreetly wiping evidence from their lips.  
  
What the heck are you guys doing in there?  
  
Joey Jeremiah, Craig's faux-stepfather and largely his saviour, leans in toward the door.  
  
We're fine, Craig giggles, I'm just kicking Sean's ass.  
  
Ah, actually it's the other way around, Mr. Jeremiah, Sean socks him gently on the shoulder. They hear a short chuckle outside the door.  
  
All right, just keep the carnage to a minimum, huh? I don't want to have to haul out the bodies.  
  
We will, Craig calls, and waits for the telltale creak of Joey descending the stairs to let out a cackle and bury his face in Sean's neck, falling onto their backs again.  
  
It's been just days, a mere collection of hours since his escape and rescue, but to Craig it feels like a lifetime. Even the memory of his father's most recent outburst haunts him only physically, the iris-coloured bruises that paint his torso slowly melting into his usual creamy pale.  
  
Sean wraps an arm around his wiry friend who lounges with his head propped against Sean's stomach. So are you permanently swinging on that side now?  
  
Craig shrugs thoughtfully, contentedly. I don't know. You never know, right? I'll be totally honest, though, he glances at Sean, who is watching him. There're only two women I've ever loved: my mom and Angela.  
  
Sean considers him quietly. He's never known exactly what to say regarding Craig's late mother, but Craig seems comfortable with just mentioning her in passing. As for Craig's little half-sister Angela, he's never seen his friend happier than when he's zooming around the yard with her, playing and feeding off her insouciant sunbeam.  
  
But family's different, Sean strokes one hand along the line of Craig's forehead, threading his fingers through the mess of chocolate curls.  
  
Craig's eyes fall closed, smiling involuntarily. What about you? Queer forever?  
  
Could be, Sean says mildly. It depends.  
  
On what?  
  
On how long you want me around. Sean is fascinated by the cool silk of Craig's disheveled hair between his fingers. Craig laughs.  
  
What's that supposed to mean?  
  
Sean smiles bemusedly. I don't think I like guys in general, he reasons. I just like you.  
  
Craig thinks on this giddily, and giggles, I don't know if I should be flattered by that or sort of insulted.  
  
Why would you be insulted?  
  
I think you just called me girly.  
  
Sean cracks up again, which makes Craig laugh even harder.  
  
Craig feels the abuse was more mental than physical, an agonizing cycle of fear and need. Unfaithful, his father called him. Ungrateful. Like his mother. Craig could stand the arguments, the shouting, the fists, the rage. He could deal with the fear, like a constant lead ball in his stomach. It was when his father used his mother as a barb that it hurt the most.  
  
Even the hurt wasn't as bad as the anger. The injustice, when his father had forbidden Craig to see his six-year-old half-sister, who was the light of Craig's life. After their mother had passed, Craig found no greater happiness than the indefatigable energy and delight in Angela. She gave him strength, and peace, and joy. He felt that if he should stop seeing Angela, he would wither like a flower without the sun. When his father found out Craig was secretly visiting her, his wrath reached a frightening climax.  
  
So Craig had run. He went to the train yard with only a pocketful of money–––his father's attempt to smooth over the damage he'd caused. Scared and choked with anger, Craig thought to escape to British Colombia, where he had known happiness and safety, to start life again, something new and fresh. Among the barrel fires and rusted engines, his head spun, unable to think correctly. He raced blindly, running because if he didn't, he felt, he would crumble.  
  
He found himself crumbling indeed, at the only place he thought he might find a solace–––in the soft green grass of his mother's grave. He fell to his knees and laid his forehead against the cool stone, wanting nothing in the world but to sink in and find salvation.  
  
Startlingly, salvation came.  
  
Sean, who had tried to follow him as he'd run to the train yard, had gone to fetch Joey Jeremiah, and together they'd searched the night until they found him in the cemetery. There the truth came out. Craig felt as though he were shrugging off a stone-heavy mantle, walking unburdened for the first time since his mother's death.  
  
Joey, Angela's father, Joey his friend, Joey his salvation, invited Craig to do whatever he felt was best–––to stay with he and Angela if he wished, for as long as he wanted. He brought Craig to his father's house to get his things. Craig, armed with the courage and strength of this new promise, this new life, stepped resolutely past his father, got his things, and left.  
  
Their laughter ebbs once more and Craig finds himself on his back, Sean's comfortable weight over him, and feels blush tinge his face as Sean studies him. His heart vibrates faintly and he swallows.  
  
_I couldn't feel this with a girl_, he thinks. _Could I?_  
  
Can I try something? Sean asks, his voice low in the closeness.  
  
Craig says, a nervous breath and smile. Sean shifts and motions for Craig to sit up. He moves around behind his friend and wraps both arms around Craig's slim waist, setting one hand low on Craig's abdomen.  
  
What are you doing? Craig's voice quivers in nervousness and buried excitement. Neither of them have dared yet to let their hands wander in that direction, though each have separately longed to.  
  
Give me a second, Sean mutters, and, finding his aim in the middle of Craig's pelvis, sets one hand over the other. Hold your breath.  
  
Craig does so and immediately it is opened again in a gasp as Sean pushes the tips of his fingers in and downward, pressing against his back, pressing into an element of ecstasy just within. Glittering flowers open before Craig's eyes and fade; his fingers clutch the covers of his bed, the merest pain and a tide of pleasure flooding him from his toes to his throat. It is a purely sexual sensation, of being delved into, of secrets being touched.  
  
Blush burns on his face, and just as he feels tears prick his eyes, Sean releases him, lays his hands on Craig's shivering shoulders, his lips against the back of Craig's warm neck.  
  
It takes Craig a moment before his hands unclench and his lungs allow flow. He is embarrassed at his reaction, at being so easily overcome. He lets out a shaking sigh and folds back against Sean's chest, the kisses at his neck like breath stirring lingering embers.  
  
he pants. He licks his lips and tilts his head as Sean's lips inch toward the corner of his jaw. Where did you learn that?  
  
Let's call it a real good guess, Sean murmurs.  
  
Craig's mouth falls softly open as Sean cradles his neck with a strong hand, his kisses more heated, insistent. Show me that again sometime...  
  
It is purely evident now that both their arousals have grown, and though each hungers to intimately touch the other and be touched, they understand that it is out of the question yet.  
  
Sean brings an arm up to take Craig around the waist, and accidentally knocks against the bruised ribs there. Craig winces and stiffens with a small noise of discomfort, which makes Sean tense and clench his jaw.  
  
he whispers and strokes Craig's hair.  
  
Don't worry about it, Craig smiles.  
  
Sean's anger has not subsided like Craig's. The night they rescued him and brought him to Joey's house, Sean stayed, and saw for the first time the evidence of the abuse Craig had borne.  
  
To learn it had happened at all was enough to make Sean cry–––even if it was only a few tears, it was not something that came to him lightly, and he managed to rub them away without notice, though it shook him to the core. He understood then that what he felt for Craig could be nothing less than love, and witnessing another bad thing happening to another good person gave him the courage to say so, there in the bedroom Joey had set up. To his great surprise, Craig grinned and, exhausted, threw his arms around Sean's neck.  
  
The kiss was an act of pure irrepressible desire on Sean's part, and it startled Craig, but he was far from objecting. Wordlessly, each venting all manner of passion and tension and longing, they sunk to the floor and began to tug off one another's clothes, a small maelstrom of hands and lips and breath. Craig allowed Sean to undress him halfway, and Sean, seeing the consuming, visibly aching violet bruises staining him from collar to hip, nearly shouted in outrage. He closed his eyes, his jaw rigid, then slowly brought his hands down, balled into fists.  
  
I'll kill him, he said, a dangerous quiet.  
  
It's all right, Craig assured him, embarrassed. It looks worse than it is––  
  
I'll kill him, Sean repeated, his knuckles white. I'll kill him myself, with a golf club and a lawnmower. Sean was serious, of course, but Craig laughed at this and pulled Sean down into a kiss, effectively ending his death threats and redirecting his passion.  
  
They spent the next few hours on the lush-carpeted bedroom floor, stripped to their pajama bottoms, Craig a symphony of sighs and soft cursing as Sean carefully touched every inch of him exposed. He buried his fingers in Craig's Pre-Raphaelite curls as he tasted his mouth, a shape like poetry, tasting faintly of butterscotch; he kissed to the end of each finger, lingered at the fine, taut curves of Craig's neck; he gently plucked at the little buds of each nipple, drawing high blush and much lip-biting.  
  
He wanted to heal Craig, to soothe him, to reassure him. He wanted Craig to know he thought he was a prince among boys. He wanted to bring rage and retribution back to the man who'd done this to his best friend, but in honoring Craig's wishes, he chose to love instead of fight–––to adore Craig in all ways, to give Craig the opposite of the hurt he'd endured, to burn it out of his mind.  
  
He gingerly pulled the hem of Craig's pajama bottoms as low as he dared, just past the smooth cut of his hips, and attentively kissed and nuzzled there. When he'd sent Craig into a satisfying trembling aphrodisia, he turned him onto his stomach and began again, kissing and caressing from the nape of his neck, down his slender back to the rift of his spine. He slid the fingertips of one hand into the top of Craig's pajamas as he stroked across a bruise with the other, but risked nothing more daring.  
  
Craig was rather amazed by Sean's ability to be so gentle and thorough–––he had always seen him as a tough guy, as not very good at expressing emotion. Apparently, Craig thought as sweat shimmered at his temples, all he needed was the right inspiration. He was beyond grateful for the excuse to shiver and moan freely, to have every thought in his dizzy head replaced with the feel of Sean's soft mouth on his skin; to be conquered and worshipped, to be held and touched without frustration or pain, only fluid bliss.  
  
They fell asleep there that night, having pulled the bed covers and pillows down to the floor, Sean being religiously careful to avoid his friend's bruises as Craig slept fast and sound. There hadn't been a shred of awkwardness in Craig's way, only a need and gratefulness for the comfort Sean gave. He rather expected Craig to regret what they'd done the next morning, but when they woke, the first words from Craig's mouth were to ask whether Sean would be willing to do that every night of his life. Sean grinned and said that would be fine with him.  
  
So... do we tell anyone? Craig asks tentatively. He's been balancing on this question–––he doesn't want Sean to think he's hoping to make it public, but he also wants Sean to know he isn't ashamed.  
  
Who would we tell?  
  
Craig shrugs, fidgeting with his fingers, I mean, if we tell one person, we pretty much tell everybody...  
  
Sean chuckles. This kind of thing gets around pretty quick.  
  
Craig laughs softly. This is his first year at Degrassi, and aside from the violence at home, life has been pretty ideal. He's done well in his classes, made friends quickly, and enjoys the atmosphere, though he can think of a few people who wouldn't be so receptive to the idea of he and Sean becoming a pair. In fact, who can he think of that would?  
  
His smile fades suddenly as he realizes he and Sean must keep this entirely hidden. He sighs–––just as he's shedding one secret, he must carry another.  
  
Sean is thinking along the same track. I love you, man, but I don't think anybody else would understand it.  
  
Craig sits up suddenly, turning and smiling. We can tell Emma! She's pretty open-minded, and she wouldn't––  
  
Sean frowns with a note of panic. No way. No.  
  
Craig opens his mouth to sway him, then thinks better of it. He doesn't want to press the issue, and he knows Sean's condition with Emma–––many months ago, when they were an unusual, unlikely couple, he was fairly crazy about her, and she seemed to feel the same way until he asked too much, which didn't take hard pushing with Emma.  
  
She is a firecracker, her heart and body protected like fortresses. She wears an armour of informed conviction, of an attitude of truth and a fearlessness that is surprising for her slight dancer's figure, and which Sean admires. She reacted to Sean's pressure with such matronly outrage and sternness that he was too embarrassed to make up a suitable apology. She mistook his mortification as pigheadedness and has not, as of yet, forgiven him. He has largely given up on trying to win her good graces again, though Craig can clearly see the unspoken regret and longing.  
  
Come on, she and I go back, Craig says by way of persuasion. We ran around in the sprinkler together back in the day!  
  
  
  
She's totally cool, she's like the one person I can think of who wouldn't be coughing up hairballs over this––  
  
I don't mean to shut you up here, bud, but why do you want to tell anyone?  
  
Craig, who is leaning enthusiastically nose-to-nose, is at a loss. His smile flickers and Sean can't help but let a laugh escape.  
  
Did I burst your bubble?  
  
Hang on, I'm thinking, Craig holds up a hand. Why _does_ he want to tell anyone? Maybe just to spread the weight out a bit, so his heart's new burden won't be as heavy. Maybe he wants the world to know he's proud of being Sean's romance, unashamed of his feelings.  
  
I guess, Craig says at length, searching Sean's patient eyes, It's too good a secret to keep.  
  
I, um... I agree, Sean says tentatively.  
  
  
  
But I think this is gonna have to stay between you and me, Sean nods. And that doesn't mean I wouldn't _like_ to tell somebody, just...  
  
It's not kosher, Craig finishes, then laughs out loud and claps a hand over his mouth.  
  
Sean smiles suspiciously.  
  
Holy shit, imagine what Spinner would say! Craig crows.  
  
Sean laughs with him, but to him the thought is more gruesome than funny. He's known Spinner too long to hope a sudden streak of Bohemian understanding will come over the guy. Spinner is big, loud, and good in his intentions, but the last person Sean would want to have to defend his emotions to. Well, perhaps not the _last_...  
  
I'm guessing you and Jimmy are still... Craig makes a face. Avoiding each other.  
  
  
  
Jimmy is a relatively sore spot with Sean. In a shining example of the drama that unfolds so inexorably at Degrassi, Sean and Jimmy's friendship was rent permanently asunder when Sean kissed an ecstasy-high girl friend the same night she broke up with Jimmy. Explaining all this to Craig, who had arrived at the school after all the summer shenanigans, was a massive headache for Sean, and he speaks of it as little as possible.  
  
Craig took an immediate liking to Jimmy, who demonstrates nothing but intelligence, good humour, and an easygoing nature, which Craig holds in very high regard. In fact, Sean and Jimmy are the two boys whose company he most enjoys, which is why he's so disappointed that neither one will speak to each other. He imagined spending a day hanging out with the two of them would make him about the most contented guy in the country–––until now. An evening in and out of Sean's embrace is (still surprisingly) idyllic.  
  
Craig sighs and settles back into Sean's strong arms. There's no need to think about sharing his secret for now. The last traces of sunshine simmer in reds and wine-purples behind the tree line, the last forgotten frogs of the summer are quietly singing, and Craig and Sean have an entire night together to get up to whatever misadventures they get up to.  
  
Craig grins, and Sean lifts his chin from the top of Craig's head. Craig tilts his head backward. Teach me to do that thing.  
  
Sean smiles bashfully and raises his arms in consent. Craig scrambles into a kneeling position and, through the bedroom window, Sean's silhouette can be seen gently encircling Craig from behind, guiding their hands as Craig shivers in nervous delight.  
  
For another day or two, they can keep running.


End file.
